April 2011
In September, 2009, after a season of gardening in Smith and Jones, we moved to a new apartment, a ground-level one bedroom affair with a door directly leading outside. The apartment managers said I could plant anything I wanted in the beds on either side of the door which added about 100 square feet of garden space to my gardening domain. I moved herbs from Jones to that area which made them much more convenient to retrieve for cooking. I also planted daffodils and tulips, Jerusalem Artichokes, tomatoes and cucumbers. Last fall I planted spinach and lettuce, both of which we’re eating and enjoying now. At some point, I realized I was the proprietor of three gardens, but I found myself referring to them like this: Smith, Jones, and The-Garden-At-Home.
Our middle son and his wife live in an apartment in Brooklyn with an outdoor porch area (that is on the open, flat roof of the lower floor of the building). For some reason, we were discussing how we should refer to it. For example, in a typical house you might say, “I’m going to the living room,” not, “I’m going to that-other-room-over-there-the-one-with-the-couch-and-the-piano.” They needed something to call the outdoor space besides “Out Back,” or “The Outdoor Space,” and porch or terrace or deck wasn’t quite right. Due to some faulty, funky, or otherwise odd wiring in my brain, I glimpsed the high (second story), flat open space of their porch and was reminded of the large stone outcropping on the Rhine River called The Lorelei. That name got into my head and stuck, partly because it sounds so pretty (though German), and partly because it’s so quirky. Imagine saying: “O.K., everyone, we’re going to step out to The Lorelei for hamburgers and beer,” or “The two of us being out here alone on The Lorelei makes me want to snuggle with you.” Odd, huh? No matter; I liked it.
As everyone sort of smiled and vaguely nodded their heads when I made the suggestion, I knew they would never choose it. Too bad! What a waste of a good… hey… wait… I could name the third garden The Lorelei. And so I did. Put next to Smith and Jones, it’s both lovely and funny: Smith, Jones, and The Lorelei.
We humans have the ability and the authority to name things. We’ve been doing it from the dawn of time. It’s even mentioned in Genesis (2:19-20). This fundamental human task is word-based. We take language and apply it to things around us. In fact, I think people have an inner imperative to fill the world with words. Recognitions like this are part of why I love and am committed to words and all things literary. It’s part of why I’m writing this blog.
And besides that… oh…hold on… Gosh, I’d like to write more, but supper’s almost ready, and I’ve gotta go out and pick some lettuce from The Lorelei.
Post Script -I learned recently that Jobs’ daughters’ names were Jemimah, Keziah, and Keren-Happuch which means Dove, Cassia, and Horn of Adornment, a set of three words rhythmically similar to Smith, Jones, and The Lorelei, if you ask me.
